


I See Fire

by Lumelle



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Apologies, Arguing, Baby Dwarves, Courtship, Cultural Differences, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), M/M, Mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all that fire lends Gimli's hair and beard a lovely glow, it pains Legolas to see the same fire consume so much of what grows and lives. However, he is somewhat thoughtless in his words when he voices this, leading to Gimli drawing entirely the wrong conclusions. Legolas may need something more than mere words to make up for his error.</p><p>Even next to the forges of Erebor, nothing warms him quite like Gimli's smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a simple Gimli/Legolas piece, but then I decided ~~I couldn't let my princes die~~ Kíli and Tauriel being happily together would give the story a nice background, so have a nice Everyone Lives AU instead of post-LotR or whatever.
> 
> The baby featured in the fic is Fíli's. Feel free to imagine their other parent as whoever you prefer (or just assume the child is stoneborn), I haven't decided it myself ~~yet~~.

The fire burning merrily in the fireplace made Gimli's beard gleam and shine with an almost unearthly glow.

Legolas was quiet, listening to the crackling of the fire and the deep tones of Gimli's voice as he softly hummed a lullaby to the child in his arms. The child's hair was soft and wispy pressed against Gimli's coarse beard, shining gold against the coppery curls. There was something almost magical about the image, the glow of the fire and the murmured song deep inside a mountain.

Sometimes he wondered if it was all worth it, making sure Tauriel could leave the woods in peace and not either banished or a deserter, standing beside her on her wedding day in place of the blood family she had long since lost, visiting her and her new family in the mountain as often as the dwarves would tolerate him. Other times, such as now, he didn't have the slightest doubt he had made the right decision in supporting her choice.

Not that anyone, not even Tauriel with all of her teasing, could have predicted Gimli.

Gimli was the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to him, a force of nature and a soothing balm all in one. They had first met when the caravans from Ered Luin started to arrive and Legolas volunteered to be one of the elves guiding them through the forest, finding himself face to face with a very annoyed young dwarf who did not hesitate to voice his opinion on elves who insulted his mother. How he had found out about it when they had not even reached Erebor yet, Legolas had no idea, though he suspected certain princes and their ravens had something to do with it. He certainly wouldn't have put it past Kíli to send word to the caravan just so he could cause Legolas some discomfort. Whatever the reason for Gimli's discovery, though, their first confrontation had left Legolas literally breathless and flustered in a way he hadn't quite been able to explain.

They had clashed more than once after that, though now it did not happen quite every time they met. If anything, Gimli had been one of the first to welcome him into Erebor with anything but wary tolerance, boasting of dwarven hospitality and making sure his relatives lived up to his promises. With time their bickering had grown less frequent and more teasing in nature, anger and hurtful words making way for the kind of comments Legolas might have exchanged with his fellow elves on a hunt, or he heard Gimli exchanging with his cousins. Because he was cousin to the princes, Gimli was, if somewhat distant, and apparently quite incensed at having been left out of the quest on account of his young age, being still a few years short of his majority when Thorin and his Company had set out on their journey.

Now those years had passed and a couple more besides, and Legolas found himself sitting deep in the bowels of Erebor as Gimli cradled Fíli's little son who had at once become the most cherished treasure in all the mountain. Legolas rather suspected that if the child had asked, Thorin would have gladly given him the Arkenstone as a teething toy.

The treasured little prince was asleep, now, though Gimli still hummed. Legolas found his gaze drifting over to the fire. It was still burning merrily, the few logs in the fireplace holding strong against the flames.

"You know," he said, pondering. "I used to rather dislike dwarves for felling and burning so many trees."

Gimli snorted. "You elves and your trees," he murmured. "Explains why you mostly eat weeds and such, if you're so afraid of making a fire."

"We do eat meat!" That was just ridiculous. His father's court was well known for excellent game during the hunting season. "But we also do not see the point in keeping a fire just for the sake of it!"

Gimli frowned, now. "It's not just there to be pretty, you know. I'm sure you elves could dance in a blizzard and never feel the touch of the real world around you, but for all that we dwarves are not as susceptible to illness as men, cold can and will still harm us."

"And your forges? I've seen the like you have here in Erebor. If those are an example of what dwarves like to have, it's no wonder Lady Yavanna feared you would take down all her trees!"

"Oh, yes. Many will frown at our grand forges and deep mines, yet when it comes time to sell the fruits of our labour we find them rather happy to do trade. Not that they all would give us fair price, of course, since something achieved through such unnecessary means is obviously tainted and should be freed from dirty dwarven hands."

That was an obvious bait, and Legolas knew better than to rise to it. "But surely there can be some discretion used? I doubt a dwarf would think twice at cutting down even the oldest trees, if their fires were burning low."

"Why? Older means bigger, for trees certainly, so that one old tree would mean more fuel than several younger ones. Should you not be advocating such endeavours, as they might mean fewer trees felled in total?"

"And if the tree is a thousand years old? Or might live another thousand, if not for the hungry axes of dwarves?" Not that there were many trees quite that old, certainly not outside elven forests, where they were kept safe from such senseless desire.

"Do those years give the tree some special worth, then? The ones lived, or the ones ahead?"

Legolas bristled. "Of course!"

Gimli was quiet for a moment, then looked down at the babe in his arms. "This one here is barely a year old," he said. "He might have three hundred yet before him, if he's lucky and long-lived. Are you saying, then, that one of those trees would be worth three of him? Since we're counting worth in years, now, and he doesn't have much behind him or ahead, not by elven count anyway."

This time it was Legolas who frowned. "That is not what I said."

"It is what you implied, is it not? The needs of dwarves are less important than those of plants, because none of us could reach the age of your oldest trees." Gimli adjusted the child at his arm, slowly standing up from his seat. "Know, then, that if this or any other wee one were cold, I would fell any one of your trees and merrily throw it in the fire, because to me there is no number of rings on a tree I would count more worthy than a single day of the lowest dwarfling."

Legolas rose as well, a feeling of dread spreading through him. "Gimli, I didn't mean —"

"Perhaps you ought to find one of those trees to speak with, Master Elf. After all, I am very young and foolish yet, and never will be old enough to merit your consideration. Clearly I'm no fit company for you." Gimli shook his head. "I'm taking the child to his parents. Do feel free to put out the fire to spare the poor wood, if you so desire."

He didn't try to speak now, merely watched as Gimli marched out of the room, his posture stiff and radiating anger. Not that Legolas could truly blame him. For all that he might not have intended any offence, he had chosen his words poorly, and he could see why Gimli would have been hurt by them.

Sighing, he sank back into his seat, staring into the fire. Somehow, it did not warm him quite as it had before.

He waited some time before following, knowing that Gimli would not react well if Legolas were to go after him right away. As he finally did, though, he needed not ask anyone for directions. He rather felt he could guess where Gimli had gone after such a conversation.

Indeed, he found his friend at the forges, standing far enough to the side that he wouldn't get in the way of the dwarven smiths working there but still close enough that Legolas could feel the heat on his skin as he walked up to Gimli's side. Not that he could have escaped their warmth for quite the distance, of course. Even he could admit the forges of Erebor were magnificent to behold, as signs of great mastery and industry if nothing else.

Gimli did not look to him as he arrived, made no sign he had even noticed Legolas coming to his side. However, Legolas stayed silent, waiting for Gimli to speak first.

"We didn't have anything like this in Ered Luin." And there it was. "Oh, we had forges and smithies to be sure, but nothing this grand. Wouldn't have needed anything like this, either; the mines had little to give, and we had little enough trade. I used to think my elders were teasing me when they told me of Erebor's forges, thought there could not be anything so grand under any mountain. Yet here I stand, and they are even greater than I imagined."

"I'm sure they are." Not a useful response, but the only one he could offer.

"I am a child of exile." Gimli's voice was low, so much so that by all rights Legolas should not have heard it over the noise of hammers and bellows and other such things, but elven ears had their advantages even in a dwarven mountain. "I never knew a home other than Ered Luin, never knew Erebor in its true glory. Fíli and Kíli were the same, too, raised on stories and dreams when there was little bread to go around. Fíli had never seen the throne he stood to inherit, Kíli had never slept in the grand halls his mother sang of when she cradled him to sleep. Not until they followed their uncle did they finally have what should have been theirs from the start."

"They have that now, though." Legolas swallowed. "Durin's folk once again rule Erebor, and the last great dwarven kingdom will soon be restored."

"Except if your father had his way, they never would have seen their home. He would have let them rot in his cells because he thought it was his right to decide whether we should have our home, his right to place conditions on our regaining what was wrongly stolen from us. Because dwarves are nothing but misguided children, and it would be better for us to die than make a choice an elf doesn't approve of."

"That's not the entire story."

Gimli snorted. "Is it not? Should I also mention how he came with an army to meet with thirteen dwarves, and dared to claim he was not the one seeking war? That he gave aid to men that he never offered to dwarves? Don't take me wrong, I'm not saying he should have let the exiles of Laketown starve. What I do say is that he would have seen all of Durin's folk die of hunger before he lifted a finger, and his aid to the men, however needed, was naught but mockery of our grief that he was all too happy to ignore."

Legolas clenched his hands. "My father did not make his past decisions lightly."

"I suppose you would know. I was not yet born then, grown in exile because a dwarf is a glad ally when they are rich and prosperous, but naught but dirt in their hour of need."

To this, Legolas had no response.

"I've been trying to tell my father you're different from your kin, you know. For years I've tried to tell him not every elf is the same, that you could not see past what you had been told but unlike Thranduil you could learn to see reason." Gimli shook his head. "And now I see I was in the wrong. Clearly you are not one bit different, still thinking we are children, and stupid ones at that."

"You are not wrong." How could he make himself clear? "I never meant to say that I would judge the worth of a creature in years. I never would say so. All I meant is that such old trees are rare, and not easily replaced, so to lose them would be a pity."

"Right. Whereas dwarves are plentiful and easily replaced, and who would mourn if we were lost anyway?"

"You are twisting my words, my friend." He was starting to feel frustrated, now. "I never said that, either. Perhaps there are some who might think so, I will not deny that, but I am not one of them and I do not condone it."

"Do forgive me for thinking it might be likely, given how common that thought seems to be among your people." Gimli shook his head. "We are mortal and live short lives compared with you elves, and for that, many think us less important and less worthy of consideration. Your father, among others, is a great example. Would you blame me, then, for thinking you might judge us the same, when you literally told me it's years that give a creature their worth?"

"I never said I blame you for thinking so. I chose my words poorly, and I apologise for causing you grief. All I'm saying is that I did not mean to imply any disrespect for your people." Legolas sighed. "I am well aware of my father's shortcomings. He even looks down on those of our people who are not of high birth, thought Tauriel unworthy of my company while your king welcomed her into his family." Even if it had only been after some very lengthy conversations that turned into shouting matches on occasion, from what he had heard. "He may be my father, but he does not speak for me, any more than your father might do for you. I cannot blame you if you doubt my friendship, but I would prove it to you if I might."

"And how would you prove that, then?" Gimli gave him a dubious look. "What do you have to offer me, besides words and more words?"

"No words, no. We've seen I cannot speak my heart clear to you, not in this, and besides I know enough of dwarven ways to realise there are times when words alone are simply not enough." He had not thought to do this yet, had thought the right moment would present itself, but then, it appeared the moment was here. Gimli was frowning at him, even as he slipped his hand into a hidden pocket and drew out a small pouch.

"What's this?" Gimli frowned, but accepted the pouch from him. At Legolas' gesture toward it, he loosened the ribbon holding it closed, then tipped it until the contents fell onto his other palm. As he did so, he was left staring at the beads now lying in his hand. "These are…"

"They are courtship beads." Legolas swallowed. "Or they will be, if you would allow it."

"Are you mocking me?" Gimli's frown deepened, and oh, it pained Legolas to know Gimli would doubt him so.

"Not at all. I rather find I have grown to consider you my dearest friend, Gimli son of Glóin," he said, reaching his hand to lightly touch the side of Gimli's face, resisting the urge to wind it into the red beard, thick for all that it was yet to grow to its true length. "The thought of being away from you makes my heart ache, and every time I return to my forest my greatest thought is when I will be back to you again. It was during those times that I made these, carved them from the antlers of the finest deer and the wood of the strongest trees in my father's forest, so you might know my love is as enduring and as tireless as the forest itself." He let his hand fall, now, still unsure if his touch was welcome.

"But… why?" Gimli sounded honestly confused, now.

"Why?" Legolas managed a faint smile. "Because I love you, Gimli son of Glóin, I love your sharp tongue and your twinkling eye and your brave heart that would scold a prince for insulting your mother and yet welcome him into your mountain. I would court you if I may, show to all the love I hold for you, and if I have any grief over your shorter years it is because you do not have more of them to stand by my side."

For a moment, Gimli simply looked down at the beads on his palm. Then he looked up with an expression Legolas was not sure he could read. "You think this is enough for you to court a dwarf?"

"It is not?" Legolas frowned. It was possible, of course, considering he was working on third party information, but Tauriel had been quite clear that beads were integral to proposing courtship.

"Of course not. You'll also have to make the braids to put them on, by your own hands and without help." Gimli lifted his eyebrows. "So you'd better get practising, my prince. I'm sure Kíli at least would be glad to advise you, for all that he may make light of you as well."

That made Legolas' heart feel light as a cloud. "And when I can do that, you will accept?"

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Gimli flashed him a grin, slipping the beads back into the pouch and securing it tight. "Until then, I'll be keeping these, as a bit of a guarantee, you see. Wouldn't want you changing your mind all of a sudden, after all."

"I would not change my mind! You think I would speak to you without being sure my heart is set?"

"How would I know the ways of elves? You're such flighty creatures, might get blown away by the next wind. I'll believe you when I have the braids in my hair, and not before." Gimli was still grinning, though, and that was so much better than the hurt look from earlier. "I suppose it's a good thing we don't actually need permission from our parents, though."

"A very good thing, indeed." And finally, Legolas could allow himself a smile. "All I care about is your answer."

And truly, for all that Gimli's hair and beard might have gleamed in firelight, Legolas had never seen something as bright and beautiful as Gimli's eyes at this moment.


End file.
